Unexpected
by TheOtherAvenger
Summary: When Malcolm heads to Central New York to return the Girl in the Box to her family, he meets and is immediately drawn to her niece. She goes back to New York with him and they go close as they both begin to heal from the trauma cause by The Surgeon and The Junkyard Killer, but moving on isn't always easy. Rated T because the show is about murder.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there! I'm TheOtherAvenger. It's been a while since I've posted anything because I've been working on an actual book of mine, but this story kept bouncing around in my head. I've got the first few chapters written, so I figured I should take a shot and post this story. I know my version of events are obviously going to be different from how things play out, but oh well. If you're an Avengers fan, you can go check out some of my other stuff. If not, kick back, relax, and enjoy.**

**Warnings: There is some discussion about sex in this chapter, but nothing graphic.**

**Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the production of this show. Only the plot line of this story and my OC belong to me.**

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**August, 2020**

Malcolm steps out of the airport and onto the sidewalk, shielding his eyes against

the August sunlight. He picks a cab and puts his big bag and one of his carry-ons into the trunk, but keeps the other bag on him. He tells the cab driver the address and watches out the window as the unfamiliar central New York town passes by.

Truthfully, he didn't need to come up here personally, but he felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, who better to bring the girl from the box back to her family after twenty years than him?

Once his mom showed the bracelet to the news, the woman's identity was discovered. AMS. Angela McKenzie Stanton. She was from central New York and had gone down to the city for a few weeks on vacation. Her family never heard from her again. The Graveyard Killer, his father's trainee, had taken Angela's body and buried it after Malcolm had found it. It hadn't taken long to dig her up after they got a location. They processed the scene and then had the remains, which were now in Malcolm's other carry on, cremated.

Malcolm is heading to check into his hotel and then meet up with Angela's older sister, Kaitlyn. He wants to hear about the woman from the box in person. If only he had called the police sooner when it happened, but he had only been a kid. He might have saved the family a whole lot of grief. He still has no idea if she was still alive when Malcolm found her or not and he'll probably never know.

Once they arrive at the hotel, Malcolm hands the cab driver the money for the ride and the driver helps him take his bags out of the back. Malcolm watches the cab drive off before taking in the hotel. It's got so many sides that it's almost round, but not quite. He walks up to the front desk. He gives the receptionist his name and his credit card. She hands him the room key, tells him about breakfast, amenities, and then tells him to enjoy his stay. He thanks her and then heads to the elevator. He pushes the ten button and watches the floor numbers slowly click up until he gets to his floor.

He's only in his room long enough to deposit his bags and to freshen up a bit from the flight. He glances at the clock to make sure he's not running late. He shoves the key card into his pocket, grabs his phone off the bathroom counter, then picks up the bag containing the urn. It had been a hassle to get it through security, even with the proper documentation and he had almost missed the flight.

After a fifteen minute ride, he's now in front of a brownstone in a nearby suburb. It's a breathtakingly beautiful and immensely large house. This was the place where Angela had grown up, but now Kaitlyn lived in it with her husband. They moved in after Kaitlyn and Angela's mother had died almost six years ago now. He'd learned that much from the records.

Malcolm walks up the driveway to a side door that was clearly the primary entrance point. He takes a deep breath and then rings the doorbell. The door opens right away. Clearly they had been watching for him. The woman that answers the door is a little taller than average with brown hair and hazel eyes. He recognizes her as Kaitlyn.

"Hi," he says, reaching out his hand. "Malcolm Bright. Under different circumstances, I'd say it was nice to meet you."

"Kaitlyn Montgomery," she says, shaking his hand. "Come in."

"Thank you," he says. He steps inside the house and into a little hallway. He can see a kitchen a few feet away at the front of the house and another leading into the dining room. Beyond the dining room he could see into the living room. Right before the kitchen there's a closed door, presumably leading to a basement.

"Here, we can go sit in the living room. I got part of the story, but not the whole thing. Where are my manners? Would you like a drink?"

"I'm okay, thanks," he says and follows her through the dining room and into the living room. There were two other people in the room, one sitting on a tan couch, the other sitting on a chair. He could see the man on the couch, but only the top of someone's head in the chair. He assumes the man is Kaitlyn's husband, Robert. Her second husband. He's a balding, slightly overweight man. Malcolm doesn't know much about him because he didn't really look into him.

Once he's in the living room, he turns to look at the person in the chair. The woman in the chair. It's Kaitlyn's daughter, Jess. It's her legal full name. Sure, he'd seen her driver's license photo, but it was a few years old and it didn't do justice to the beautiful woman he is now looking at. Her hair is dyed dark blue. Her eyes are hazel, like her mom's. She's not conventionally beautiful, but he feels drawn to her. She's wearing a worn black _Stranger Things _shirt, jeans, and hufflepuff socks. She's wearing a necklace with a strange symbol he doesn't recognize.

"Malcolm, this is my husband, Robert, and my daughter, Jess," Kaitlyn says. "Guys, this is Malcolm Bright."

"Hi," he says, then set the carry on onto the table. "I just wanted to personally return Angela to you guys. It felt like the right thing to do." He unzips the bag and carefully places the urn on the coffee table.

"Thank you," Kaitlyn says. "We always wondered what happened to her. We had her declared legally dead a while ago, but it's nice to have closure. I just wish my mom was still around to see. She died without finding out the truth."

"I don't know how much they told you, but I can tell you my story," Malcolm says, settling into one of the chairs. "I still have a few blanks, but I remember most of it now."

"Not much. Just that you had some memories about it and eventually found her bracelet. I'd rather hear it from you," Kaitlyn says.

"When I was a kid, before I knew who my father really was, I wandered down to his office. I was never supposed to go down there. There was a box that I found with a woman in it. I wish I could tell you if she was alive or not. My mom found me and yelled at me that I wasn't supposed to be in my father's stuff. My father drugged me to force me to forget, but I had nightmares about it for years. Everyone thought it was a dream. Until a few months ago," Malcolm begins, then finds himself telling them all about losing his job in the FBI, getting a job working with the NYPD. About how he went back to see his father for help with cases. About the memories that he started seeing bits and pieces of. How he found the car, how he met the Junkyard Killer and found the bracelet. They just listened to him as he told them all the details.

"And now you're here," Jess says. "I wish I could remember my aunt. I've heard lots of stories, but I was too young to have any real memory."

"I should get going," Malcolm says, starting to stand.

"Nonsense. You must join us for dinner," Kaitlyn says. "It's the least we can do."

"If I had called the police earlier then none of this would have been happening," Malcolm says. "I feel partially responsible."

"You were just a kid yourself. It was not your responsibility," Kaitlyn says. "Your mother knew. She should have said something."

"She was just trying to protect Ainsley and me," Malcolm says. "I'm not sure I fully understand it, but that's what she swears and I can tell from the recording that she was sincere. My mom and I might not always see eye to eye, but at the end of the day she always does what she thinks is best for us."

"I can understand that," Kaitlyn says.

A half hour later, they're all sitting at a table at Chili's, having placed their orders and waiting for food. Malcolm and Jess are sitting side by side. He'd heard a lot of stories about Angela and is really starting to understand who she was as a person.

"So what's your story?" Malcolm asks Jess.

"Well, I graduated from college three years ago. Finally got my own place about a year and a half ago after I got a pretty good raise at work," Jess says. "There's not really much to tell, really."

"What's your degree in?" Malcolm asks.

"Biology. Minor in human development. I think I'm going to go back and get my masters soon, though."

"Where do you work right now?" Malcolm asks.

"Barnes and Noble. I really love it there. It's not exactly what I want to do with my life, but it beats my old job at Chipotle. I worked there until I reached my breaking point," Jess says. "Plus a lot of my disposable income ends up going back into the store's profits. You should see my apartment. It's like a library in there."

"I might have to take you up on that offer," Malcolm says, smiling at her. "So that makes you what, 26?"

"25," she says. "I was born in September, so I was always younger than most of my classmates. But I'll be 26 soon."

"I was born in 87. I'll let you so the math yourself," Malcolm says.

"So, how long are you planning on staying in our neck of the woods?" Robert asks him.

"I haven't booked a ticket back. I was planning on just staying for the funeral, if you'll have me, and then heading back to New York," Malcolm says.

"You're more than welcome at the funeral," Kaitlyn says as the waitress returned with their food. The table went silent as they eat their dinners.

Kaitlyn insisted on driving Malcolm back to the hotel rather than take a cab or an Uber back. When she dropped him off, he thanked her profusely for dinner and the ride before heading back up to his hotel room.

The next morning, Jess is at work, when she hears someone walk up behind her.

"Excuse me," Malcolm says and she turns around. "Do you mind showing me where I can find books about serial killers?"

"I mean I can if you really want me to," Jess tells him. "But I suspect that you meant that as a joke."

"What exactly is it that you do around here?" he asks her.

"Mostly help customers find books. If we don't have it, I'll order it for them. I also pull off books for people when they reserve a copy to come pick up. I'm also trained on the cash register, but I don't really like doing it that much," she says. "What brings you here?"

"You made an impression on me last night. I figured you'd be here. Would you like to get a drink tonight?" Malcolm asks.

"Like a date or?" Jess asks him.

"It doesn't have to be. I just figured I don't know anyone around here other than your family, so I figured I'd ask you to hang out," Malcolm says. "What do you say?"

"Ummm.. yeah. Sure. I'm not much of a drinker, but I can have a drink or two. But it has to be at a pub. I will not step foot in another club again. Once was more than enough."

"That's a story I'll have to hear tonight," Malcolm says. "I've got a rental car for the next few days. I'll pick you up at your place at eight?"

"Sounds good," she says. "Be warned, though. I went to London a few years ago and I will tell that story to anyone who will listen. Best week of my life."

"I look forward to it," Malcolm says. "I finished my book a few nights ago. Got any suggestions?"

Malcolm ends up in the book store for almost an hour with Jess giving him reading suggestions. She gets so animated. He's smiling to himself as he leaves with a handful of new books. He knows he shouldn't get involved. There's about an eight year age gap between them as well as about 250 miles. It's a bad idea, but he can't help but feel an attraction to her. He just wants to spend time with her. He really should know better. It would never lead anywhere, it couldn't.

That night at the pub turns out to be amazing. There is no awkward silence or silence of any kind. They sit at a booth, eating a lot of deep fried food, talking about anything and everything they can think of. They're so engrossed in the conversations that before they know it, it's almost one a.m.

"I should probably be getting home," Jess says, standing up and yawning to demonstrate.

"Good call," Malcolm says. He goes to the bar and pays their tab. He then drives Jess back to her apartment and walks her to the door.

"Did you want to come in?" Jess asks him as she unlocks the door.

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Malcolm says.

"Not like that," she says, hitting his shoulder gently. "You said you want to see my collection of books."

"How about tomorrow instead? After the funeral," Malcolm asks. "It's pretty late."

"Alright," Jess says, pulling the keys from the now unlocked door. She turns back to him and hugs him. "Thank you for tonight and for all you've done for my family."

"It's no problem, really," he says awkwardly.

"Good night," she says, pulling away. She enters her apartment and closes the door behind her.

Malcolm listens to the lock click in place before he heads back to his rental. Tomorrow. He's going to see her again tomorrow. He'll be in her apartment tomorrow. What he should be doing after the funeral is getting on a plane and going home. Back to his job and to his family. He drives back to the hotel, chastising himself the hotel. The girl in the box visited him again that night. Except of it being Angela in the box it was Jess and he's an adult. He's the one that pulls her dead body out of the box and buries her in a backyard. He wakes up with a start. He gets up and paces his hotel room, contemplating just getting on the first plane out of here. But he can't miss the funeral. Kaitlyn wants him there, so he's going to be there. Plus, he needs the closure. He needs to see that it is actually, truly finally over.

Malcolm arrives early to the funeral service. He tries to take a seat towards the back, but Kaitlyn insists that he sits in the front with them. He's never particularly liked funerals - not that anyone liked funerals, but they always made him feel awkward because he's not very great with crying and hugging. There's a reception afterward where he socializes with lots of different family members and listens to their stories about Angela. He especially likes the ones he hears about the exploits that she and Kaitlyn had gotten into as kids.

"Are you ready?" Jess asks him after the latest person he was talking to left.

"Huh?" Malcolm asks, then looks around and realizes there is only a handful of people left at the party. "Oh, yeah. I'll follow you back to your place since we both have our cars."

"Alright. Let me just go and say goodbye to my mom. Between you and me, I don't particularly like family functions. There's too many people and too much small talk. I'm not big on crowds to start with."

"I always find funerals awkward," Malcolm says.

"That too," Jess says. She walks back to her mom and hugs her goodbye and tells her she'll see her soon. She returns to Malcolm and they head out, talking about the book that Malcolm had started, as per her suggestion.

"Can't you just tell me if-" he starts.

"Nope. No spoilers. And I'd have to tell you the entire plot to explain it to you," she says. She pulls out here keys and unlocks her car door. "See you on the other side."

Ten minutes later, she's standing behind Malcolm as he browses her massive collection of books.

"How long have you been collecting?" he asks, still scanning the spines. "There's got to be close to five hundred books."

"Around 7th grade, I think. I used to borrow books from the library, but I like having access to all of them at any given moment. Sometimes I just want to reread a certain scene from a book."

"Wow. I get it, though. It's like your own library," he says, pulling a random book off a shelf.

"Yeah. Check this out." She takes the book from him and flips to the title page and holds it out. There's a date from a few years ago and a stamp that reads From The Library of Jess McFarland.

"That's really cool," he says, taking the book back from her. "I guess I should know better than to ask what your favorite book is."

"Definitely. Do you want a drink? I've got milk, water, juice, or something stronger," she says, going into the kitchen and opening the fridge.

"I'll take something a little stronger," he says. "Also, you owe me a story."

"You really want to hear about that?" she asks, grabbing a couple beers from the fridge. She hands him one and sits down beside him.

"I absolutely want to hear it," he says, twisting the top off.

"It was senior year of college. I can't remember if it was on Halloween or just near it. I had just turned 21 a month and a half ago. I had never had a fake ID, mostly because I had no use for one. I'd drank at home before I turned 21 and kept some alcohol in my dorm room, but I'd never stepped foot in a bar. My friends decided we should go to one. I was picturing a place that you got your drink, sat down, and ordered appetizers. I was wrong. It was a club. We were there earlier than most people. I didn't know any of the music or what to order as a drink. I was just overwhelmed. It started filing up with people in costumes. Well, the guys were in costumes. The girls were in crop tops and short shorts, dressed up as a slutty version of anything you can think of. I did not enjoy it at all. We ended up leaving because I was close to a panic attack."

Malcolm shakes his head. "You're something else, you know that?"

"I was pretty sheltered. I preferred to sit in my room alone, watching Netflix or reading until bed. My drug of choice was chocolate milk," she says.

He laughs, still shaking his head. "I'm trying to picture it."

"It's not funny," she says and throws a pillow at him.

"Oh, that's how you want to play it?" he asks, tackling her and pinning her down on the couch. They both start laughing hysterically for no real reason. Maybe they both needed a bit of fun after the day's events. But the laughing stopped after a minute and Malcolm realizes he still has her pinned to the couch. He stares at her for several seconds before leaning down and kissing her.

She freezes for a few seconds, but then kisses him back. They find themselves unable to stop and soon she's properly laying under him on the couch, their hand both doing some exploring.

Malcolm pulls away. "Do you want me to stop?" he says.

She shakes her head no and tries to go back to kissing him, but he keeps moving away.

"If that changes and you want me to stop, I will," he tells her in a serious voice. "We don't have to do anything you're uncomfortable with."

"I want it all," she says. "As long as we're safe, though."

"Don't worry, I always am," he says. "My mom drilled it into my head when I got the talk and then every time I went to a party or out with a girl."

"Can we not talk about your mother right now? I'm sure she's lovely, but there's better things to do at the moment."

"Right," he says. "I'd much rather do them than talk about my mother."

She wakes up to someone moving around erratically next to her. It's 2:30 in the morning, according to the clock on her nightstand. She looks over at Malcolm, who is clearing in the midst of a nightmare. She puts a hand on him and shakes him gently. She jumps a bit when he flies into a sitting position, screaming.

"It's just a nightmare," she says gently. "You're alright."

"I'm sorry. I should have gone back to the hotel room. It's better prepared for this sort of thing," Malcolm says. "I've been getting night terrors since I was a kid. To the point that I have to tie myself down at night. I'm sorry if I scared you."

"No, just startled. You mentioned before that you had them," she says.

"It's just that now you've been appearing in them," he says. "You're the girl in the box now. Since we met the other day. And I killed you."

"You're not a killer," she says. "You're the opposite. You save people by catching the killers."

"I don't save everyone."

"No one expects you to s-"

"Why didn't you tell me that last night was going to be your first time?" Malcolm asks.

"It's not like I've never done anything with guys before," she says. "I was just waiting for when it felt right. It did last night.I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to make a big deal out of it."

"I just hate to think that you wasted it on me," Malcolm says, pushing a piece of hair out of her face and tucking it behind her ear.

"It wasn't a waste," he says, then before he changes his mind, adds, "Come back to New York City with me."

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey ya'll. Sorry about the long gap between chapters. I've just been busy. Life and poor time management will do that. I'm gonna try to do better in the future, but I can't promise anything. I did just finish the third chapter of this story, though, so it'll be up once I finish the fourth. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. I know my story diverges from the actual show, but it is what it is. I've thrown in a character from a trilogy I just read. Brownie points if you know what trilogy. I highly recommend the trilogy if you haven't, but this chapter does have some spoilers for it.**

**Disclaimer: I am not in any way, shape, or form associated with the show**

**Warnings: Mild language, mentions of sex**

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**August 17th, 2020**

It's a short drive from JFK to Malcolm's apartment. It's been four days since she accepted Malcolm's offer to move down to New York City. She had packed up her apartment and shipped any essentials down to Malcolm's place. She'd stashed the rest of her stuff in her room at her mom's house. She would drive back and pick them up once she has her own place.

Now she's standing in front of a tall building. "You don't own this whole building, right?"

"Nope. I live on the top floor, though," Malcolm says, opening up the front door. "I'll get you access so you can come and go as you please."

"Thanks," she says, following him to the elevator. "I'm sure you're in and out a lot, too. Seems like on all the shows people like you have odd working hours."

"There are certainly some late nights," Malcolm says. "I want you to feel comfortable here, okay? Until you find your own place, just pretend my place is your place and yours only. Just don't bring any guy home, okay?"

"Does that include you?" she teases back.

"I mean I live here, so," he says. They arrive on his floor and he opens up the front door. "Welcome home."

"Thank you kindly, sir," Jess says in a southern accent. She steps inside and takes a look around. He'd already described the place to her. He'd also told her about all of his conditions and such so that she could be absolutely sure about moving in with him temporarily. They'd been busy the days since the funeral. He'd helped her pack up and move the boxes. They hadn't slept together again, in either way. He stayed at his hotel and she stayed at her place. They also hadn't talked about what happened.

She sets her suitcase down by the couch and sits down. "This place is so cute. I love the open floor plan."

"I know there's not privacy, but I've never had a roommate before now. Well, except Sunshine," Malcolm says. "But it'll be fun."

"What's upstairs?" she asks, pointing to the staircase.

"I don't go up there much honestly," he says. "But for now, it's your room."

"Cool," she says, standing back up and looking around the first floor of his loft. "I should get you a houseplant."

"Not the best idea. I'm a serial plant killer," Malcolm says, grabbing her suitcase.

"I'm pretty good with succulents," Jess says. "You know I can take my own bag upstairs, right?"

"Yes, but you're my guest, so I'm going to do it," he says, walking towards the stairs.

"I thought I was your roommate," she teases, slinging her backpack over her shoulder then following him up the stairs.

"You're both, I guess," he says. He reaches the landing and finds the light switch. The room is mostly empty, with some boxes and totes and other miscellaneous stuff. There's an unmade bed in the center of the room. "I'll have to make that for you. I set it up as a guest room, but I haven't had one in a while. You can move stuff out of the way. I have to go through these boxes. I'm pretty sure my high school yearbooks are buried somewhere up here."

Jess smirks. "Malcolm in his awkward high school years? Challenge accepted."

"No, the awkward ones are the middle school ones, which I will take to the grave

with me," he says. "I was still just Malcolm Whitley, the son of a serial killer back then. Seems like that was my main personality characteristic."

"When did you change it?" Jess asks.

"Once I realized I wanted to be an FBI agent, I figured that no one in their right mind at Quantico would accept the son of a serial killer to the academy. I changed it. I didn't tell anyone until after the academy, and even then I only told people I thought I could trust. The FBI bosses knew who my father was, of course, but at least this way people would be able to take me seriously."

"Makes sense," Jess says, setting her backpack on the floor beside the bed. "Don't worry, I'll be out of your hair as soon as I get a job and enough money for rent. I know how expensive it is around here. I'll probably end up on the other side of the island. Or New Jersey."

"I will handcuff you to the bed before I let you move to Jersey," Malcolm says. "I brought you here. I can help you out."

"Thanks, but I'm an adult. I need to do this on my own. Also, technically you can handcuff me to a bed right now, just not this one."

"I might have a pair of handcuffs around here somewhere if you'd rather be tied to this bed."

"Into BDSM, are we?" Jess teases. "I could get behind that. Or underneath, rather, I guess."

"In all seriousness, I don't expect anything from you in order for you to stay here. If what happened was a one time thing, that's fine. It's a big city. There's plenty of guys. You don't need to feel like you owe me anything, okay? There's plenty of guys."

"There's also plenty of garbage," she says. "I'm not jumping into anyone else's bed, but I'm probably not jumping into yours either. I like you, but I need to take things slowly. Get to really know each other more and date for a bit before we do anything in either of these beds. Or on any of the couches. Or counters. Or against the door."

"For someone who was still technically a virgin last week, you're awfully imaginative about places to do it."

"I read."

There's a buzz on the intercom, so Malcolm goes back down the stairs to see who it is and to possibly let them into the apartment. Jess setes her suitcase down and grabs a change of clothes, not wanting to be in the ones she wore on the plane.

Malcolm buzzes up his colleague and waits for him by the front door. He opens it as soon as he hears a knock.

"I heard you were back in town today," his colleague says. "Why did you stay up there so long?"

"Hey, Malcolm, where are your-" Jess calls as she climbs down the stairs, but stops when she sees who is at the door.

"Or maybe you got back last night," Malcolm's colleague says.

"Jess, I'd like you to meet-" Malcolm starts, but Jess is already standing next to him.

"Jasper Dent. I know," Jess says. "I read his book. Also, I've seen too many crime documentaries?"

"A fan of my parents, huh? Please call me Jazz. Everyone else does. But you probably know that already."

"I wouldn't call myself a fan. Hard to be a fan of a man who killed over 120 people and is indirectly responsible for at least a dozen more and the woman who ran a private club for serial killers."

"Not to be rude, but who are you?" Jazz asks her. "I really don't like talking to reporters."

"Oh, I'm not a reporter. Just a roommate at the moment."

"Jess is Angela's niece. I asked her if she wanted to live in the city. She's staying with me until we can get her set up with her own place," Malcolm explains. "By the way, what are you doing in the city? Last I heard you were still home in Tennessee."

"Cam for a visit and Hughes roped me into the case that's going on right now. I heard you were back and was hoping for a fresh set of eyes," Jazz says.

"Uhhh…" Malcolm glances back at Jess for a moment.

"You should go," Jess says. "I'll be fine. Go fight crime like a superhero. I'll just get settled and watch Netflix."

"Aright, if you're sure," Malcolm says. "The wifi password is on the fridge. I've got Netflix, Hulu, Prime, Disney Plus, and pretty much any other streaming service you can think of on the tv. There's food in the fridge. Help yourself. I'll be back later. Oh, and the sheets are in the bathroom closet." With that, Malcolm follows Jazz out the door, leaving Jess alone in the loft.

Jess explores the downstairs a bit, finding the bathroom and familiarize herself with the layout. She grabs a set of sheets from the closet Malcolm mentioned and makes her bed. She then grabs her laptop out of her carry on and brings in down stairs. She sets it on the kitchen counter, careful not to disturb anything, and signs into the Wi-Fi using the code on the fridge. She then moves to the couch and begins looking at jobs and apartments. She finds out quickly that places in the city are more expensive than she thought. Well, that explains why minimum wage is so much higher here than the rest of the state, at least. She has some money saved away, but she has a feeling she's going to be staying with Malcolm a little longer than she thought. She knows he said to make herself at home, but this is his home, not hers.

After a few hours, growing frustrated, she closes her laptop and grabs the TV remote off the table. She flips it on and turns on the news, wondering if it'll be covering whatever case Jazz and Malcolm had just gone off to work on. She isn't disappointed. Funny enough, it's Malcolm's sister, Ainsley, standing in front of a police station, reporting.

"I'm in front of the police station where inside authorities are working hard to solve the brutal deaths of four women in the past six days. Authorities have reported that they are using all possible resources to track down the killer and warn citizens to be on high alert. If you have seen or see anything suspicious, call the number of the station, which is on the screen now, or call 911. If you have any information, please reach out. Callers can remain anonymous. Back to you, Leslie."

Jess flips the TV to another channel once the screen changes back to the newsroom. She opens her laptop back up to look into the killer. There are pictures of the victims, but not much detail as to how they died, other than from exsanguination. Jess knows this means that the killer has some place where he can keep the victims while they bleed out. The speed really depends on how big the cut is, right? Does the killer need the blood for something? Or worse, is the killer drinking it? She considers calling Malcolm, but decides against it. She'll ask him for details when he gets home. Instead, she closes her laptop back up and lays back on the couch, turning on a romcom instead and playing on her phone.

Some time later, she feels a hand gently shake her shoulder and sits up quickly, looking for the source. Her eyes settle on Malcolm, who looks exhausted.

"Is the killer a vampire?" Jess asks him.

"You don't want to hear about the case. Not really. Go to bed," Malcolm says, walking towards his bed.

"Come on, at least tell me if you're considering it," Jess says, standing up and stretching.

"Look, I'd rather not give you any nightmares, okay?" He runs a hand through his hair. "But it would fit the killer's profile if he is drinking the blood, but he could also be injecting it into his bloodstream. Otherwise why bleed them one place and dump the bodies elsewhere? But we really don't know what he's doing with the blood. I'll give you more details in the morning if you'd like. And please don't freak out if you hear me screaming, okay?"

"Okay," she says and yawns. "Hey, I don't fit his victimology, right?"

"You take medication, so no," he says. "The women so far haven't ever taken any medication or even birth control. None of them have had any kind of surgery either. He probably wants the blood pure."

"Look at that. Being crazy has its perks," she says and starts climbing the stairs.

"You're not crazy. From what you told me, you were emotionally abused by your father as a child and its led to your mental health problems."

"Guess we both have daddy issues," Jess says, looking down at him. "Good night, roomie. By the way, tomorrow you're telling me exactly how you know Jasper Dent. Cuz I think you have some sort of club."

"There's no club," Malcolm says.

"That's exactly what someone in a secret club would say."

"Good night," Malcolm says firmly.

"Thank you," she says. She finishes climbing the stairs and settles into the bed. She falls asleep within minutes.

Jess is startled awake by a commotion downstairs. She glances at the clock. It's almost 5:30 am. She knows Malcolm said to ignore it, but instead she gets up, wrapping her favorite blanket from home around her. She carefully walks down the stairs and finds Malcolm at the kitchen sink, filling a glass with water, with his back to her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to wake you," he says. "You can go back to bed."

"No, it's alright," she says. "Do you want to talk about it? It might help."

"I've been talking about it for years but it never seems to help." Malcolm turns around and finally looks at her. "Really, go back to sleep. It's fine."

"How do you know Jazz?" Jess asks him.

"I told you that there is no secret club for kids of serial killers. But seeing as you read his book, you know there is a secret club for serial killers."

"Wait, your father was a Crow?" Jess asks. "No one has ever linked him to them."

"They caught my father over 20 years ago. He's not really relevant to it. To be honest, I'm not 100% sure he was one, but it would make sense," Malcolm says. "I reached out to Jazz right after everything happened here seven years ago."

"Makes sense," Jess says. "Were you on the hat-dog case? You were still FBI back then."

"I was there, but I was still pretty low on the totem pole," he says. "I know wha

you're trying to do."

"Whatever do you mean?" she asks innocently.

"I started training in Quantico in 2010. You can do the math yourself," he says. "Or you could have you know, asked."

"Actually, I was trying to distract you. But now I know how old you are, too. Thanks."

"I know," he says. "I'm impressed that you know the minimum age for joining the FBI, though."

"I know a lot of random things. I'm great at jeopardy. So, tell me what you guys know about the vampire."

"I told you that we don't know for certain exactly what he's doing with the blood," Malcolm says. "Does the age gap between us make you uncomfortable?"

"It's not that much of a gap. It doesn't break the half plus seven rule. I'm not even sure what's going on with us right now," she says. "Now stop changing the subject."

"Don't you think talking about our relationship and figuring things out is more important than me revealing classified information about an open case to you."

"Why can't we do both?" Jess asks him. "Maybe I can help with the case. Besides, the conversation is a lot more comfortable than the relationship one."

"We're both adults here," Malcolm says, putting a mug under the Keurig and watching it fill the mug with coffee. "Do you want some?"

"I don't drink coffee," she says. "Look, I know you wouldn't have brought me here if we didn't spend the night together. Clearly you want something to happen."

"I can't speak for you, but I'm attracted to you and I think you feel the same way. I know we've kind of done this backwards, so let's start over, okay?"

"Okay?"

"Hi. I'm Malcolm," he says.

"Jess."

"I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner with me on Friday night," he says.

"That sounds nice," she says. "Under one condition. You tell me the details about the vampire case."

"You're impossible."

"Do we have a deal?"

"Will you stop calling him a vampire?" Malcolm asks.

"You know, there was a _Criminal Minds_ episode where a guy was using blood for paintings. Do you think that this guy might be doing that?"

Malcolm sighs. "You're not gonna be an easy roommate are you?"

"Why don't you ask Katherine? She was my college roommate. She lives in Brooklyn."

"That's what I thought." He sits down with his coffee. "They found the first victim on the 11th in a hospital morgue. They thought it was just a paperwork error, but they couldn't find any patients that had died in the hospital matching the victim's description."

"Wouldn't it be kinda obvious that the person had no blood?"

"Not as obvious as you would think," he says. "The killer somehow managed to avoid showing their face on any of the security cameras."

"Maybe the person works at the hospital. Or they or someone they love is there a lot. Maybe with some sort of blood disorder," Jess suggests.

"That's a possibility," Malcolm says. "Figuring out what the killer is doing with the blood might be important. Or completely irrelivent. So we have to take into consideration all the aspects of the case. There's too many details to get into,"

"Are you gonna go back and help today?" Jess asks.

"Jazz is better at getting into their heads than I am, actually. I think he just wants someone to bounce ideas off sometimes."

"I suppose if your father raises you teaching you how to kill people, you're gonna understand it."

"It's not just killing people that makes someone a good killer," he says. His phone vibrates and he checks it. "Good news. You get to meet my family today."


End file.
